


Once Upon A Time...

by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ants, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bedtime Stories, Children's Stories, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Flowers, Fluff, Gardener Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Love Stories, Mutual Pining, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Pining, Plants, Rain, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), True Love, this is absolutely adorable trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a nanny and a gardener. They were inexplicably close, but liked to dance around each other. Warlock didn't really understand their relationship, but he didn't concern himself too much with the affairs of grown-ups, especially not when there were stories to hear, butterflies to chase, and anthills to conquer!TL;DR: While Crowley and Aziraphale try to raise Warlock they fail miserably at hiding their relationship (it's almost like they're not even trying!)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling & Brother Francis, Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling & Brother Francis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody! This story is going to be four parts long, filled with pining, and super fluffy! I'll post a new part once a week on Friday :) Enjoy!!

“Warlock, dear, it’s almost time for supper! Come inside so you can wash up,” a woman dressed in all black walked across an expansive yard to reach the little boy. 

“Ok, Nanny!” he began to run full-speed-ahead to his nanny, completely abandoning the conversation he had been having with the gardener. Nonplussed, she stuck an arm out and easily scooped up the small child. A feat that shouldn’t have been possible for such a skinny woman as herself, but she did it. Warlock noticed that she did multiple things that others refused to do, it was one of the many wonderful things about her. 

“No running in the house, Hellspawn,” she said in a serious tone that Warlock would never disobey. 

“Ok, Nanny,” he responded again as he wiggled in her grasp. She gently set him down. He proceeded to speed-walk away to the house, softly giggling to himself for God knows why. 

The nanny shook her head at him, smiling. She was going to follow him, but before she turned around she saw a silly-looking gardener waving at her excitedly yet also shy. She raised her hand and half-heartedly waved back. 

She was going to return to the house, she really was. She needed to help Warlock and make sure he didn’t make a mess at the sink that was still too tall for him to reach properly. She would have returned to the house… if she hadn’t seen the horror that was the garden. The plants were all carefree and complacent, living in harmony with a multitude of creatures that are explicitly _garden pests._

She had to go over there. Teach those plants not to smile and frolic with the enemy. If she wasn’t allowed to, then they most definitely weren’t. 

The red-haired woman made her way over to them. It was a miracle she was still graceful while stomping across an uneven field in heels. The plants already began to straighten their stems when they saw her approaching. They shivered under her insidious glare, powerful enough to make any being cower, even from underneath her sunglasses. 

“Why hello, dear!” her demeanor instantly changed upon hearing that voice. She quickly went from murderous intent to endless heaps of love. When she saw the plants breathe sighs of relief tried her hardest to keep up a hard appearance. 

“Angel. You’ve been _coddling_ these plantssss,” her voice hissed slightly due to her aggressive feelings towards the flora. 

“Well, I see no need to shout at them as you do, love. They are growing quite beautifully already, supported by my compliments and encouragements,” just hearing the overly kind gardener say those words made her feel it was necessary to shoot the plants a look that told them that they were not, in fact, growing beautifully. “And, truthfully, you are extremely harsh on your ‘children,’ as you call them,” he paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t see why you call them that, you are _much_ kinder to actual _human_ children,” he stated, patronizingly.

The woman glared at him. She glared a glare that would’ve made anyone shake in their boots, but the gardener just smiled at her knowingly. This just made her even more annoyed and closer to losing her fragile composure. She tried _extremely_ hard to keep her blush hidden (the effort wasn’t worth it; her cheeks blazed scarlet).

“Shut it,” she tried to sound authoritative. “How could you let the garden get to thisss sssstate?”

“Crowley, it’s hardly in a state, everything is-” his sentence was interrupted by the black-clad woman grabbing the gardener by his lapels and shoving him against a nearby tree. 

“Get those pesssssstsss out of here and show those ungrateful bassstardssss of plantssss who’s boss or sssso help me _I_ will,” she whispered threateningly, some of her words coming out more like hisses. 

The gardener _(that BLASTED gardener)_ just frowned, looking at her lips. “Oh, dearest, your lipstick is smudged, here let me-” he licked his thumb in preparation to wipe away the colouring that had strayed from her lips, but he never got the chance. She released him as quickly as she had grabbed him, taking a few unsteady steps away. 

_“Aziraphale!!”_ she croaked out, her gaze firmly planted on the ground, face _burning._ She looked as though she’d just run a marathon, panting slightly.

The gardener let out a little ‘tut’ of alarm, “Are you feeling alright? Your voice sounds dreadful and you’ve gone all red!” he gently took her arm, helping her stand up straight. 

She finally looked at him, observing his features. He was entirely genuine, the oblivious wanker! “I’m _fine,_ angel,” she sighed.

“I think you’d best get inside, dear, Warlock will be waiting and you might want to sit down for a tick,” he looked at her face worriedly. 

She sighed again, “Yes, alright,” he gave her a pat on the arm and a radiant smile. She returned a much weaker smile. “See you ‘round, angel,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away, trying to feign composure as though the man she was in love with _didn’t_ just almost indirectly kiss her. 

~×~

Later that night, after Warlock had brushed his teeth she was sitting beside his bed, absentmindedly turning the pages of a children’s book while he put on his pajamas. He was singing a song that she was sure he was making up on the spot, as it featured many lyrics about flatulence. Without really thinking about it she muttered, “The gardener almost killed me today.” 

Warlock gasped. “Brother Francis?!” he squeaked. 

She looked up from the book, not having realized she said that out loud or that Warlock was listening. Instead of denying it (because it was true, wasn’t it?) she just nodded solemnly. 

Warlock’s hand flew to his gaping mouth in shock. “But he’s so sweet and kind!!”

“Yes. Well. That’s how they get you,” she said with a shrug. 

“So he’s actually _evil?!”_ the boy questioned, sounding surprised, but not perturbed. 

“No no no,” she corrected with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” she looked to the ceiling as though she could actually see the Heavenly Host sneering down at her.

“Oh,” now Warlock sounded let down. 

“Yeah, he’s still a sweet git,” she set down the book and stood up to tuck him in. “That’s actually _how_ he nearly murdered me,” she stated nonchalantly before placing a kiss on his forehead. 

“What happened?!” Warlock’s interest piqued once more.

“Well…” shit. What was she supposed to say? She panicked. You’d think being a lying sod of a demon would prepare one for making up fanciful stories for children, but apparently not. “He- er…” _cough!_ “My lipstick was smudged and he… he tried to fix it for me,” she could feel her face heating up at the memory. “He licked his thumb and was going to rub it clean…” she stopped there, getting flustered.

Warlock’s eyes sparkled. “Did he have poison on his thumb? Was he trying to poison you?”

“Er… yes. Yes, he had… he tried to poison me,” her face continued to burn. 

“Wow…” Warlock sat still for a moment, filled with awe. ”Tell me more stories Nanny!” 

“Um, perhaps another night. For now, let’s read this,” she held up the book she had been flipping through.

“Ok!” Warlock said, settling in under the covers, already yawning. 

“Once upon a time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the first part! If you liked that please leave a comment or kudos, it would mean the world to me! I will publish the next part next Friday, July 10th, 2020.


	2. Chapter 2

They were taking a break from Warlock’s homework (if you could the work they gave to the five-year-olds ‘homework’). The boy was relatively calm today and wanted to spend some time in the garden. Of course, his nanny had agreed, which was why she was now being eagerly pulled by her hand to the garth. 

“Tell me about this one Nanny!” the boy excitedly asked pointing to a blood-red flower. They often did this when they went in the garden, Warlock would ask his nanny about flowers, he’d talk with the gardener, and then his nanny would talk to the gardener. They seemed to be really good friends, but they were shy about talking to each other. Warlock didn’t know why they would be afraid of each other; neither one of them was scary to him. 

“That’s a Gerbera or Transvaal Daisy. They’re very popular for bouquets, they symbolise happiness and the celebration of life. They come in many different colours,” she pointed to a yellow flower, “that one there is a Transvaal Daisy as well,” she explained to the little boy. 

“Wow, Nanny, you know so much about plants,” he said, slipping his hand into hers once more to drag her to another part of the garden. 

“Well, I’ve been around a lot longer than you have, Hellspawn,” she said, squeezing his hand gently.

“What about this one?” Warlock dropped her hand to run up and cup the petals of a white flower that filled his small hands.

“That’s a peony. You might not want to touch it if you don’t want ants on you,” Warlock instantly dropped the flower, whirling around to look at his nanny with wide eyes. “The ants help it bloom. They have a symbiotic relationship,” she explained simply.

“A sim-bi-tron-ic-” Warlock started to ask before a smiling man popped up from behind a bush and interrupted the half-formed question with an answer.

“A symbiotic relationship, dear!” Warlock turned and smiled at the gardener, his nanny not reacting so well.

“Good Satan, A-! I mean I- Brother Francis… you startled me,” she flushed slightly, scowling at nothing in particular. 

“Oh, apologies, love,” he smiled at her with remorse in his eyes, she didn’t return the look. He cleared his throat, addressing Warlock again, “As I was saying, a symbiotic relationship is when two creatures help each other! It’s quite wonderful! The ants protect the flowers from other, nasty insects and help them to bloom, as your nanny pointed out,” he shot her a radiant smile. “And the flowers provide the ants with tasty food!” he grinned, pleased he could share this wonderful fact about the world with the small boy. He wanted to positively influence him in any way he could. 

“Oh! That’s cool!” Warlock said, smiling with the gardener. 

“I knew all that, too…” the nanny grumbled slightly. She only acted this way around the gardener. Warlock really didn’t understand it, but it didn’t bother him too much. 

“Of course you did, love! You are so knowledgeable about plants,” he restated the sentiment Warlock had vocalized earlier, walking towards her. 

“I- wh- yo- er… I guess, I mean I am, I s’pose,” she stuttered over her words, struggling to regain her verbal footing after a compliment from the cheerful man. 

Warlock didn’t stick around to hear much after that.

He wandered away to explore the garden more. He loved the outside environment! The breeze gently ruffling his hair, soft sounds of birds and Brother Francis’ soothing voice, the bright colours of the plants and the brilliantly blue sky. It energized him! 

He skipped excitedly over to a patch of light purple flowers that, if he was remembering correctly, were called Cosmos. They looked kind of cartoonish to him, which added to the appeal. 

He gasped quietly when he saw a butterfly land on one. He crouched down, the butterfly right in front of his nose. He really wanted to touch it, but he remembered Brother Francis telling him not to. When it flew away, it surprised him, and he toppled over out of his squatting position with a giggle.

He quickly got up and followed it. This time it landed on a red flower with tons of petals that looked like they were all hugging each other. 

Meanwhile, the nanny was avoiding the eyes of the gardener, who was relentlessly complimenting her in painfully truthful ways that she couldn't easily brush off. Obviously, she hated it. And she hated him. Obviously. That’s why she couldn’t meet his eyes and was blushing extremely hard and couldn’t get a sentence out without tripping over her own words. It wasn’t because she was head-over-heels in love with the bloke, no siree. 

Finally, she could take no more. Enough was enough. “Angel, please-” she started, but interrupted herself when she saw Warlock reaching to touch a thorny stem. “Warlock!!”

The boy whipped his head around. “What?”

The nanny was by his side in a second, pulling him away from the plant as though it would attack. “That’s a rose bush! Roses have thorns on the stems! Did you touch it? Are you hurt?” she inspected his tiny hands for any signs of puncture. 

“No no Nanny! I didn’t touch it!” Warlock said, distressed. He was worried that his nanny was mad at him, when she was actually just concerned for the boy. 

She let out a sigh of relief, looking at him over her sunglasses with concern still emanating from her yellow eyes. “Be careful with roses, Hellspawn. Y’ don’t want to learn that the hard way…” she grumbled almost to herself, but Warlock heard. 

“How’s ‘the hard way?’” he asked interestedly, looking up at her from his spot on the ground. 

She exhaled quietly and sat near him, preparing to recount a story. 

The gardener stood awkwardly near them, not sure if he was welcome to join this conversation, but too interested to leave. 

“Well, once upon a time-” (Nanny started all of her stories with ‘once upon a time,’ even if they weren’t meant to start that way. Warlock asked her about it once; she said it adds magic to the story and that humans needed more magic in their lives. Warlock didn’t really know what she meant, but he trusted her judgement. He’d begin all of his stories with ‘once upon a time’ for the rest of his life.) “there was a man. He was in lo- er-” she went red, glancing up at the gardener standing over them. “Do you mind?”

He quickly turned a severe colour of scarlet. “Right. Of course, I’ll just…” his words trailed off as he began to walk away.

“No no, angel!” she called after him, slightly resignedly. He turned around, looking apprehensive. “Just… sit down,” she gestured to a space near herself and Warlock.

“Oh!” he smiled, giddily walking over to them and plopping down. “Thank you, dearest. You know I can’t resist a good story,” he wiggled slightly and smiled at her. She kept her eyes fixed on Warlock, though he could tell she wasn’t actually seeing him. They were quiet for a few seconds before the new audience member prompted, “Please go on, love!”

“R-right. So. Once upon a time, there was a man,” she restated the beginning words quickly. “He had just met the most beautiful man in all of existence, and he wanted to impress him,” she moved her hands delicately. “So he ventured into the garden, trying to find the most beautiful plant to give to the beautiful man. Y’know what? Let’s call him Angel. He wanted to do something to impress his angel,” Warlock was oblivious to the way the gardener next to him stiffened slightly. Apparently, his nanny was too. She continued on. “He saw many beautiful creations, but none of them called to him the way the roses did. He loved the way the petals wrapped around each other, so elegantly fragile, yet strong as a whole. He decided this was the flower for the man he was beginning to love,” the gardener gasped slightly, as though there had been a big reveal in the story. Warlock didn’t get it, but he was anxious to find out what happened to this man and his astoundingly beautiful counterpart (of course, he didn’t use those words in his head. He was only five, after all). “The man reached out for the flower, preparing to pick it, but when he grabbed the stem he cried out in pain. He looked down at his hand to see many tiny puncture wounds covering his palm,” _now_ Warlock felt it was appropriate to gasp. Nanny held up her own hand, as though it was covered in pricks of blood. The gardener cringed slightly, as though he could truly see them. “The angel heard his yelp and came running. He found our man with his bloody hand and healed him. Luckily, he was so impressed that the man would endure such pain in an attempt to dazzle him, that his plan worked out after all!” she smiled, clasping her hands. 

“Wow… so they got married?” Warlock asked, eyes wide. 

Nanny’s smile faltered slightly before she replied. “Yes. And they lived happily-ever-after together in a cottage with a huge garden that reminded them of how they met,” she ended the story with a quieter voice than she had when she was telling it, and a smaller, softer smile. 

“You know, dear, I think I know that story. But my version is slightly different,” the gardener grinned at the woman who was now brilliantly red. Warlock’s attention shifted to him, wanting to hear his tale. 

“What happens in your story?” Warlock turned towards him excitedly. Nanny stayed where she was, not looking at the gardener.

“Well, when the angel finds the man with the bloody hand, he’s still grabbing at the roses, desperately trying to retrieve one,” he glanced at the nanny who was now glaring at the ground. “He stopped once he realized the angel was there, and only begrudgingly allowed him to heal his hand,” he smiled in the nanny’s direction, and continued, “But Nanny Ashtoreth was right for the ending. The angel was impressed, and they _did_ live happily-ever-after,” the gardener smiled at Warlock, who looked thoughtful. 

“I like Nanny’s version better,” he said.

The gardener laughed. “I think she does, too,” he said beaming at her.

She refused to meet his eyes. “Everyone likes my version better, angel, because my version is true,” she mumbled. 

The gardener just hummed. 

~×~

Warlock was almost asleep that night when he groggily asked, “Is that story true?” 

“What- Charlie and Lola? I dunno, Hellspawn, they could be-” Nanny answered after having read him _"I Will Never NOT EVER Eat a Tomato,”_ assuming that was what he was asking about.

It was not. “No!! The rose story with the angels in love,” Warlock said dreamily.

Nanny hummed, “Only one of the men was an angel,” she said, not answering his question. 

Warlock didn’t give up so easily, “But are they real? Do they actually live together in a house with a big garden?” 

Nanny was still for a moment, not looking at anything in particular, just thinking. Finally, she softly answered, “I- I don’t know,” she swallowed. 

“You call Brother Francis ‘angel’ sometimes,” he stated, following up with a huge yawn. 

“Yeah, I do,” she said in the same quiet tone. 

“Do you think he’s beautiful? Like the angel from the story?” Warlock’s eyes were sliding closed. The nanny wasn’t even sure if he’d remember this conversation in the morning. 

“Yes,” she responded without hesitation, standing up to pull the covers under Warlock’s chin. “I think he’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen,” she half-whispered, kissing Warlock’s forehead. 

“Just like the story,” he smiled slightly, even though his eyes were closed. 

“Yeah,” she answered, turning out the light, the room only illuminated by the soft glow of a night-light. “Just like the story,” she repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe :) I hope you liked that!! If you did please leave me a comment or kudos, they always make my day! Thank you for reading, the next part will be out next Friday, July 17, 2020. See you then <3


	3. Chapter 3

It was a dreary and cloudy autumn day. She really didn’t understand why Warlock had insisted on visiting the garden _today_ but she couldn’t say no to the little boy. She wasn’t spoiling him (far from it; she could be rather strict), she just didn’t see any logic in saying no when the boy asked for something so reasonable. 

“It’s almost like it’s nighttime,” she commented, looking up at the clouds that were blocking out the sun. She missed the lovely sun and its warmth, days like these always made her feel chilled to her bones.

“It is! It’s very dark!” Warlock said, his voice sounding bouncy because he was running in circles around her as she calmly led them to the garden. This was a sort of reverse for her. She was used to being the one full of movement, walking circles around her companions. Well. One specific companion. 

“I can scarcely see,” she said, in a nonplussed way. 

“You could take off your glasses!” Warlock suggested, still running.

The nanny stiffened imperceptibly. This was a bit of a touchy subject for her, but she knew the boy meant no harm. “No, thank ya, Hellspawn!” she responded in a silly voice. 

Suddenly, she stopped. “Y’know what?”

Warlock stopped too, getting very close to her. “What?” he stage whispered (he hadn’t exactly meant to stage whisper, it was just how he whispered).

“I think…” Nanny leaned down, getting close to Warlock. “I’m going to beat you to the garden,” and with that, she tore off across the field!

Warlock giggled and chased her all the way. He eventually passed her, she was running in heels after all (and, well, her true form didn’t even _have_ legs), and he made it through the entrance of the garden first. “I win!! I win!!!” he cheered.

“Aww! Beaten again by the fastest runner in the world!!” she knelt to the ground dramatically, pretending to feel very defeated. 

Warlock giggled and came over to her, attempting to wrap his tiny arms around her slim frame (she was very skinny, but he still wasn’t big enough to reach his arms completely around her). “It’s ok, Nanny! You’re the second-fastest in the world!” 

That got a laugh out of her, and she adjusted so she could return the hug. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said sincerely.

Nanny was getting back to her feet, brushing off her dress when a man’s voice surprised her. 

“Oh, hello, dear! And good afternoon to you, Master Warlock!” he seemed to come from nowhere, suddenly right at their side. The nanny had no idea how he did that!

“Good afternoon, Brother Francis!” Warlock said excitedly. 

“It looks as though it’s going to rain,” the gardener commented, looking upwards.

It was as if he had jinxed them. Directly after his statement, a fat drop of water plopped onto Warlock’s head, the boy shrieking. 

More drops followed and the downpour began.

Instantly, Nanny pulled an umbrella from seemingly nowhere, ushering Warlock and Brother Francis under it. It was a miracle they all fit under one umbrella and stayed relatively dry as they hurried inside. 

Warlock still got pretty wet, and was very unhappy about it. Brother Francis stood there awkwardly as the nanny helped the fretting boy out of his drenched shoes. 

Once that was accomplished, they started to head hand-in-hand to Warlock’s room to get him into some dry clothes. As he watched them walk away he gardener spoke, “Oh, um. Goodbye then!” he waved.

“Goodbye?” the nanny asked, an eyebrow high above her glasses.

“Er… yes… I suppose I shall be heading to the servant’s quarters,” he gave a nervous smile.

The nanny only hummed, crouching down to the boy holding her hand. “Whaddya think, Hellspawn?”

The boy still had a few tears in his eyes but he smiled to his nanny nonetheless. “You should come with us, Brother Francis,” he turned, addressing the gardener. 

“Oh,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” the nanny gave him a look that seemed to say _C’mon, don’t disappoint the boy!_ “Oh, alright, if you insist,” Brother Francis said happily, and they started down the hallway.

He was following behind them nervously. He knew it was very unusual for gardeners to go with nannies and little boys to their bedrooms. In fact, when you say it like that, it sounds creepy! His hands fiddled with each other, shoulders nearing his ears, his whole form exuding anxiety. 

The nanny must have felt it. She turned her head to look back at him, “Angel?” she said gently, encouraging him to walk next to her with a wave of her hand. 

He obliged, shuffling beside her. The hallways were quite snug but, miraculously, they all fit side by side. 

The gardener’s hands continued to move at a mile a minute. The nanny looked down at them, and then up to the nervous face of the gardener. She gently rested her hand atop his own, their previous movements instantly freezing. Their eyes met and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, moving her hand into his and intertwining their fingers. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and gave her hand a little squeeze of gratitude. She gently ran a thumb over his knuckle in acknowledgment. 

When they got to Warlock’s room the nanny quickly shut the door behind them to ease the gardener’s nerves. She then headed to the dresser and got out a new outfit for Warlock. “Let’s getcha outta those clothes ‘ey Hellspawn?” 

He wiggled as he attempted to get out of his damp shirt, the nanny coming over and easily slipping it off. She then popped a jumper over his head, letting him do the sleeve part himself. He struggled to get out of his wet pants but slipped into his new ones without any help from his nanny. 

During the quick change, Brother Francis just stood by the door, taking in the room. It was nice, quite suitable for Warlock if he did say so himself. But he didn’t know where he fit in, so he’d thought it best not to touch anything. This was not his room, after all. 

“Brother Francis!” Warlock called from the bed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was patting the space beside him, obviously asking the gardener to come and sit with him. He slowly made his way over to Warlock and sat at the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable. Warlock pulled on his shoulders, trying to get him closer. The gardener toppled over and then adjusted to a more comfortable position. Warlock leaned close to his ear and whispered noisily, “You know Nanny pretty well, don’t you Brother Francis?”

The gardener smiled at this, glancing at the woman who was tidying up her own damp garments. “I would say so, yes,” he looked back to Warlock. 

“Did she always wear her glasses?” he asked, eyes wide with excitement, cheeks still slightly wet. 

“Oh, yes! She’s had those for… ages,” he smiled at the nanny who continued to avoid his eyes. 

“Wow… why does she always wear them?” he loudly whispered again to Brother Francis, who didn’t get the chance to answer.

“Because some people hate my eyes. Well- I mean- or- I guess- they’re frightened of them,” she said the last part quieter than Warlock had been ‘whispering.’ “Please don’t talk about me like I’m not here, it’s rude,” she then snapped. 

“But why?” Warlock asked again. “Your eyes are cool,” the little boy said, sounding entirely genuine. The nanny softened a bit at his words.

“I have to agree; your eyes are truly lovely, my dear,” the gardener added. She turned to brush some invisible dust off the top of Warlock’s dresser, facing away from the bed. 

“You haven’t thought that in the past, angel,” she mumbled, causing the gardener’s eyebrows to scrunch up in distress.

Just as he started to respond to her accusation Warlock gave a _huge_ yawn. “Woah there, Hellspawn, d’you need a nap?” Nanny asked, already headed for the chair she sat in when she coaxed him into sleep.

“No,” Warlock said, crossing his arms over his chest before yawning once again.

The nanny hummed. “Well, alright. How about I tell you a story?”

“Yes, yes!” Warlock said, snuggling himself into a more relaxed position on his bed, preparing to hear a story. 

“Angel why don’t you…” she gestured to a space on the chair beside her, “just in case Warlock _does_ end up dozing off,” she said, knowing full well Warlock would be asleep in a matter of minutes. 

“Of course,” he said, giving one of Warlock’s legs a rub before getting up to sit in the chair with the nanny. Miraculously, they both fit quite comfortably (or maybe it wasn’t a miracle at all; the woman _was_ very skinny). 

“Right then. Once upon a time, there was a couple,” Nanny Ashtoreth began. 

“Nanny!” Warlock whined, interrupting the story. “You _always_ tell me love stories,” the statement made the gardener glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She responded to the little boy as though she didn’t notice. 

“Ok, one not-love-story coming up,” the nanny said, seemingly not affected by Warlock’s words and the gardener’s stare. “Once upon a time, there were two knights. One was evil and one was good. And by ‘good’ I mean a good person. _Not_ a good knight. Because he was, in fact, not a good knight,” the gardener scoffed. The nanny shot him a look and he went silent, a smile present on his lips. “He often got himself into trouble with other knights, usually knights that worked for the Evil Knight. Now, this shouldn’t have mattered. They captured people all the time. The Good Knight should have gotten captured and probably beheaded, but _instead,_ the Evil Knight saved him. Again and again, he saved him. Because you see, they were friends-”

“Like you and Brother Francis?” Warlock sleepily inquired.

“Er… yes, like us,” Nanny answered the tired boy, a bit of blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Anyway, despite the fact that the Evil Knight was, well, evil, he was a good friend,” by now the gardener was beaming. The nanny continued, “He wouldn’t just let the foolish Good Knight be captured and killed! He saved him every time. And the Good Knight saved the Evil Knight as well. He saved him from boredom… and sadness… and he kept him from feeling like he didn’t belong by _giving him_ a place to belong. With him,” the nanny continued to look at Warlock, but the gardener was staring at her raptly. “And so, despite the fact that they were good and evil and technically should have been on opposite sides, they really were on their own side. The side of protecting and being a good friend to the other,” the gardener genuinely looked like he might cry. Warlock looked almost completely asleep. The nanny finished the job with a lullaby that the gardener would have highly disapproved of if he wasn’t so distracted by his thoughts and trying not to let his tears fall. 

After a few silent moments apart from Warlock’s steady breathing, the gardener turned to the nanny. “Dearest?” he asked quietly. She hummed, prompting him to continue. “What makes you think I haven’t liked your eyes in the past?”

She sighed wearily, “Aziraphale…” she started to attempt to shut down the conversation but the gardener would not be perturbed.

“Please, dear, tell me what makes you think that,” he said, giving her his best puppy eyes.

She sighed again. They sat in silence for a few moments and the gardener truly believed that he wasn’t going to get an answer out of her. But then, she spoke. “Do you remember our… disagreement, back in 1952?” she softly asked.

“I…” he was stunned by the question. But he remembered it well. “Yes. I do,” he searched her face for signs of where this story was going. 

“Well… I took off my glasses to… let you see the remorse in my eyes, I guess,” she mumbled the last part, not liking to admit to apologizing. “And… you wouldn’t look at me. You told me to leave. So I did. I went home and… I went home,” she repeated, quieter, her voice close to cracking at the painful memory. “I wasn’t surprised exactly. I always assumed a day would come when you would remember that I was a demon, the one thing angels like you despised-”

“I do _not_ despise you, my dear. I never have and I never will,” he said with confidence. Her comment about him potentially despising her had pulled him out of his shocked state of silence. He was so taken aback because he remembered the story entirely differently, although, he could see how she would have taken it that way. “I didn’t look at your eyes because…” he knew the precise reason why he couldn’t look her in the eyes that day, but he couldn’t tell her that! Not now, for Christ’s sake!! But she was looking into his face now with such hope and despair. He continued, his tongue felt too big for his mouth. “Because I was afraid,” the despair in her eyes grew, she looked utterly forlorn. “Not afraid of you! Never afraid of you,” he mended, placing his hand on hers. “Afraid of… my own feelings,” her features morphed into confusion. “Afraid they would become… unchangeable, irreversible,” he slowly reached up, placing a hand on her frames. He took her lack of movement as consent for him to proceed to remove her shades. He looked directly into her brilliant, golden, slitted eyes as he breathed out the word, “Unconditional.” His hand returned from setting aside the glasses to cup her cheek. He watched as she ever so slightly leaned into the touch. “It was foolish of me,” his eyes returned to hers, which may have been clouded with tears, “to be afraid of something that had already happened. Something that had _already been_ unchangeable,” a single tear flowed, “irreversible,” he brushed it away with his thumb that rested on her pretty face, “and unconditional for so many years before,” he leaned towards her until they were breathing each other’s air, noses almost brushing. “I just hadn’t realized,” he said, truthfully. 

He watched as her lip quivered with emotion. He hadn’t said exactly what he meant, but she knew. She was used to his dancing around topics he believed would get him into trouble. And the overwhelming emotion she felt… relief? Love? She didn’t exactly know, but she definitely felt something very strong when the angelic gardener said, “I’ve always been enchanted by your eyes, my dear.” 

She glanced to his lips, then to his eyes, that were beginning to flutter shut as he inched closer and closer to her, her own lips parting in anticipation as-

Warlock groaned slightly and flipped over in his bed. 

They instantly jumped away from each other, putting an acceptable distance between themselves. The gardener examined some of Warlock’s artwork on the wall, his form stiff. The nanny was bright red, staring at the little boy who had moved, assessing his awareness level. He seemed to be totally asleep. She turned to look at the gardener who was still staring intently at the wall. 

“Angel,” she said softly. He turned to look at her with wide eyes, very shaken by the prospect of getting caught snogging a little boy’s nanny. She smiled toothily at him, leaning over to peck his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. She could no longer see his face but she (correctly) assumed he was brilliantly red. 

He moved his hand to intertwine their fingers for the second time that day. After a few moments, she whispered, “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand in acknowledgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Kudos and comments make my day :D I will be posting the next, and final part on next Friday, July 24th, 2020.


	4. Chapter 4

Warlock made crashing explosion sounds with his mouth as he decimated an anthill. He stepped on its residents and kicked the sand every which way. 

The gardener gasped when he saw this activity. “Warlock no!” he trotted over to the boy and gently pulled him away from the anthill. He knelt down to give him a stern talking to. “You cannot do that to poor, innocent creatures!” that sounded more desperate than stern but eh, close enough. “Imagine if this was our home you were stomping on, destroying our shelter and killing us!?” Warlock looked away sheepishly. He didn’t like to upset Brother Francis but Nanny was always telling him it was ok to bring harm to creatures… except for Brother Francis. 

“Well, I wouldn’t stomp on our home because Nanny says I’m not allowed to hurt you,” his eyes were on the ground. 

This was certainly… _not_ the answer he was expecting. He thought he’d say he wouldn’t because he cared about his family or his nanny or maybe he wouldn’t because he liked his home but no… he wouldn’t because he wasn’t allowed. That gave the gardener a lot of feelings. Upset, because the boy had more focus on rules than he did on loving his family and… confused. Why would the nanny tell Warlock he could annihilate every creature on earth _except_ for him? That was very puzzling indeed. 

Which also led him to another question, “Where is your nanny?”

“In her room,” his eyes returned to meet the gardener's. “She wasn’t awake before me which was weird. She’s always awake before me. So I went to her room to find her and she told me not to come in because she was sick because of the month…?” Warlock’s face scrunched in confusion at the memory. “Anyways, she said she might feel better later but that I could just play outside for now!” he grinned at the gardener. 

“She said… But we can opt out of…” he looked at the boy with the uncomfortable face of someone who is trying to hide their anxiety but failing miserably. “I mean- of course! That makes sense!” he laughed nervously. 

Warlock looked at him like he had two heads. 

“Is she er… is she still in her room do you think?” the gardener’s hands fumbled nervously. He looked to the house as though he would be able to see her in there.

“I think so. She said she would be if I needed anything,” Warlock answered. He had no clue what was going on but by now he just wanted this conversation to end. 

“Ok! Right!” the gardener returned his gaze to the small boy in front of him. “I- I’m just going to go check on her. You… er… just don’t hurt the ants,” and with that he walked off to the house. He was too preoccupied with thoughts of the nanny to give the boy any more input, even though he probably should have guided him to some activity that would lead him towards goodness and away from the temptations of Hell. He pushed that thought away as he continued to make his way to the house.

Once he got there, he opened the door very slowly, and shut it behind him quickly. He had to be quiet. He almost certainly should not be in the house, and he didn’t want to throw the nanny under the bus by telling someone he was here to visit her and that she was not, in fact, currently taking care of Warlock. 

He softly padded his way down the hallway towards Warlock’s room. He assumed the nanny’s would be close by, in case Warlock needed help in the night. 

Once he made it to Warlock’s room he had a decision to make. The door to the left or the door to the right. 

Soon enough, he chose the door to the right, the door to the left was in a small corner so he assumed it was a closet. 

He approached the door, his heart beating hard in his chest. He hesitantly raised a fist to knock. He gently rapped his knuckles against the door twice. 

“Dearest?” he called out quietly. 

He heard shifting from inside the room. 

“I-is that you in there? Are you alright?” he asked slightly louder, wanting to make sure the occupant of the room heard him. 

“Yessssssss, I’m fine! You can leave!” a woman’s voice he knew quite well hissed out to him. 

“Are you certain?” his voice shook slightly. 

“Yep! Go away!” she called out. He could hear the strain in her voice and he grew more worried. 

“I… Can I please come in?” he asked after a moment.

There was a beat of silence before she quietly hissed, “Fine. Jusssst… Sssshhut the door behind you,” she sounded resigned.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He opened the door in a flash and closed it just as quickly. 

When he turned around he was met with a very unexpected sight. 

The sheets on the bed were completely awry, there were small pieces (well, small compared to her body; the pieces were the size of dinner plates) of shedded snake skin littering the room, and a big black head with two somber yellow eyes clouded by blue scales that had yet to come off sitting at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, darling! That looks uncomfortable,” Aziraphale walked over to gently stroke her neck. “You had me worried, I thought you were badly injured!”

She hissed in response. “Not badly injured, but not exxxxxactly sssssssplendid either,” she said grumpily. 

“Oh, yes, of course. Can I be of assistance in any way? Don’t you need moisture to shed?” he asked, already preparing to miracle her anything she asked for. 

“Yesssss, well usssssually I would sssssssoak in my bathtub and then sssslither all around my placccce to get off the sssssssshhhhed in one pieccccce. But that’sssssssss obvioussssssly not going to be able to happen,” she hissed glumly. 

“Yes… I don’t think the Dowlings would be particularly fond of finding a giant, moist snake skin draped around their house,” he smiled slightly at the thought. The snake cringed, the Dowlings could be very unpleasant. “What can I do for you?” he asked her softly. 

“Well, I- wait, where’sssss Warlock? I told him to play outsssssssside ssssso you could watch over him!” she was tense, worrying about the boy’s needs before her own. 

“I think he’s still outside-” the gardener began, but was cut off. 

“You think?! Go back to him. Now,” she hissed. 

“No I-” he paused, deep in concentration. “He’s fine. I just checked on him with my Heavenly abilities. He’s happy and safe, neither of which necessarily apply to you! Let me help you, my dear,” the gardener stroked her back soothingly, purposefully leaving out the fact that he was nearly certain Warlock was currently playing in a bird bath. However, he didn’t lie, the boy was very happy and perfectly safe.

“I’m not unssssssafe,” she mumbled. She paused for a moment, considering. “Alright… you’ll ssssstay with me?” she asked softly. 

“Certainly, love,” he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head familiarly. “How can I help?”

“Jussst… um. If you could pull ssssome ssssssssskin off that would be niccccce. It would be besssst if you wet it firsssssssssssst and then pulled. And disssssstract me. Pleasssse,” she added quietly. She knew if she wasn’t going to be properly prepared for shedding by soaking and getting the scales damp enough it would be a painful process. 

“Of course,” she heard him perform a miracle and he had a towel wet with warm water that he began to rub over a patch of loose scales. She sighed heavily. No one had done this for her before. It felt odd but… nice. The gardener touched her very tenderly. 

When he began to peel it away she clenched all of her muscles in discomfort. “Disssssssstract me, angel,” she hissed.

“Right! Sorry,” he said nervously. She placed her large head in his lap to show him he was forgiven. He hesitantly raised the rag up to cover one of her eyes. When she didn’t flinch away he placed it over, partially blocking her vision. “Once upon a time,” he started softly, “there was a man. He was silly and a bit headstrong. He didn’t always completely think through his actions,” he removed the cloth, “or his words,” he hooked his fingernails under the eye scale and pulled. She squeaked slightly and he rubbed her back comfortingly before continuing the story. “And he often didn’t quite know what he was doing, but he always did what he thought was right. He tried his hardest to be on the right side of history,” by now his cloth was covering her other eye. “But doing the right thing isn’t always easy, and he often got into trouble. Luckily,” he removed the cloth and started to peel, “he had someone brilliant in his corner,” she gasped when he had fully removed her eye scale and a few on her jaw that were attached. “The kindest and bravest man he had ever known, who would do almost anything for him. He loved this man with his whole heart, and could only hope he loved him back,” she slithered forward so he could help her get rid of the skin on her back. He continued the story, “He knew he liked him, he knew he liked him a lot, going by his unending kindness towards him, but he could never be sure if he loved him,” he peeled off a large piece of skin, about as big as his torso. “Because, you see, everything this man had enjoyed in the past had been temporary,” he seemed to realize something and stopped his movements. A soft smile crept onto his previously intently focused features. “Except for plants. He had always loved plants, and still does today, unless I’m mistaken…?” when she hissed happily in confirmation and his grin widened. They were on the same page. “Right. Well, the other man was not like that,” he returned to his task, “When he found things he loved he stuck with them forever, as he hoped to do with this man,” suddenly his cloth had turned into a beach towel, and he began to wet much larger pieces of skin. “This thoughtful, wily, fascinating man-”

“Angel sssssstop,” she hissed. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. Am I hurting you?” he quickly pulled the towel away from her skin.

“I- no. No, you’re doing well, actually,” she said, sounding slightly surprised she was admitting this. “Jusssst. Your ssstory…” she trailed off, trying to put her feelings into words. 

The gardener didn’t give her the chance. “Oh,” he said very softly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” he sounded utterly dejected, rubbing the damp material of the edge of the towel between his fingers anxiously.

She hissed. _“No,”_ she said insistently. “I mean- it’ssss okay,” his eyes remained on his hands. She slithered over them, her large golden eyes finally meeting his. “I jusssst… I don’t think it’s _accurate_ isssssss all,” she said earnestly, eyes imploring him to read between the lines. 

He didn’t. He scoffed. “I can assure you I know this story _quite well,_ Crowley,” he looked at her as though she was the dim-witted one, instead of his positively oblivious arse. 

“Azzziraphale,” she hissed on the ‘z’ in his name slightly, “I know thisss ssssssstory too. And you’re telling it _wrong,”_ she said this in a gentle explanatory tone, as though she were proving to Warlock that brushing one’s teeth was not a waste of time. 

“I most certainly am not,” he countered, crossing his arms like… like Warlock did when he felt there was an injustice. This practically-ancient man was acting like a five-year-old. “This is _my_ story, Crowley, and I will tell it how I wish. If you hate it so much then why don’t you tell it yourself!” he stuck his chin up indignantly. 

She just sighed. “Okay, angel. I will,” she said, sounding a bit menacing. The gardener was unperturbed, knowing she never followed through on her threats when it came to him. “Keep going with your cloth, won’t you?” she phrased her statement as a question but spoke it as a demand. But she softened on her next words, “You’re good at it and it’ssss nicccccce.” If she hadn’t been a snake, there would be apparent blush all over her face. To be frank, she would have been blushing very obviously since the moment the gardener had laid his hands on her, maybe even since he entered the room.

“Of course, dearest,” he answered, only barely louder than her. He resumed his work, laying the warm towel over a large section of skin.

She breathed out of her nose, relaxing. “Onccccccccce upon a time,” she began, “there wasss a man. He wassssssssss in love with ssssomeone who wassss ssssssssstubbournly sssstuck in his beliefssss, and refussssed to ssssee the obviousssss truth that wasss lying in front of him,” she paused, waiting for her listener to finish removing her skin before attempting to speak. She made a sound deep within her throat when he finished pulling off a large piece. “Niccccce one,” she commented. He ran a hand over her newly-exposed scales almost reverently, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She shook herself internally and continued, “He tried everything to get the man to ssssssee that he loved him. He helped him out of ssssssspotsss of trouble, he gave him thoughtful giftsssssss, and he tried to sssssssubtly sssshhhow him how much he meant to him. The object of hissss affectionsssssssss remained oblivioussssss…” and seemingly continued to, as he gently wrapped the towel around the very end of her tail. She sighed. “Eventually, he realizzzed he may have to be a bit more… bold,” she slithered up so they were face to face. He smiled at her extremely softly and leaned forward slightly to boop his nose against hers. Her heart beat quickly and she entertained the thought that if she had been in human form when he had done that she may have inadvertently switched to this form anyway. Her forked tongue darted out and brushed against his face. 

“Crowley that tickles!” He giggled and squirmed, but made no real attempt to move away. She softened further, if that was even possible, at his adorable antics. 

He moved his attention back to her tail with a small smile on his face. She watched in silence as he delicately peeled away the last of her scales. 

“Ah,” he said as he set down the towel to clap his hands, satisfied with his work. “How does that feel?” 

“Wonderful,” she replied honestly, slithering in tight circles to feel her fresh scales brush against one another. 

He hummed, “I’m glad,” he said, resting a hand on her back to feel her coils move slowly under him. 

She slithered away, resting her head on her pillow before morphing into her human form. She lay on her back with her hands laced under her red head of hair in a very relaxed position. 

The man just stared at her wordlessly as a bit more pink seeped onto his cheeks.

“Should you-”

“Angel-” 

They both started to speak at once. 

The pale-haired man chuckled anxiously at their situation. “You go first, my dear,” he said, glancing at her before returning his embarrassed look to the covers of the bed. 

“O- I- whe- I- you-” she stammered.

“No no, I insist,” he comforted her, understanding her half-formed words despite the fact that they were, well, half-formed. He smiled at the bedding when he should have been smiling at her. He didn’t trust himself. He could not allow himself the pleasure of gazing at her gorgeous human form. 

“Aziraphale,” she attempted to start again. “Do you know what my story means?” 

“I- er-” that caught him off guard. “You think the brave man from my story _is_ in love with the good man…” he stated. When she didn’t respond for a few long moments he met her eyes. She simply nodded. “But, well, Crowley, I can tell you for a fact that you are wrong! You see, this is a _true_ story and I er- I know what happens in real life and the um- the brave man is decidedly _not-”_

“Angel! I know it’s a true story! And I’m _telling you!”_ she gritted her teeth as she spat out the words, trying _desperately_ to get him to understand. “You are _wrong!_ The brave man most definitely loves him back,” she spewed the last sentence quickly, as though it hurt her to say it. 

“But you-! I mean _he-_ I mean- I mean-” he spluttered, realizing the slip of his tongue. 

She moved towards him quickly and fluidly in a way that could only be described as a slither. She placed a hand on his shoulder and his blathering ceased. He looked to her hand and back to her face with so much uncertainty her heart physically ached in her chest. “I _know_ what you mean. And you. Are. Wrong. I-” his eyebrows raised ever so slightly and she swore he was going to kill her with just his hopeful looks alone. She bit her lip before continuing. _“He,_ the brave man, _does_ love the good man,” the man’s expression morphed into one of understanding _(FINALLY!!!!!!!)_ and still deep-seated fear. “He does,” she restated quietly, her voice cracking slightly with how much she meant it. 

“Really?” the man whispered uncertainly, almost ready to take the leap but still not fully believing it. 

_“Yes,”_ she breathed out shakily, her breath being affected by the relief that he was finally, _finally_ on the same page as her and sheer terror at having practically admitted her feelings for him that she’d been trying to repress for _millennia._

And suddenly, as though he thought he had to act quickly before this moment slipped away for eternity, hands caressed her cheeks and a pair of lips met hers. She kissed back quickly, her hand that had been resting gently on his shoulder began to grip it for balance, her other hand coming to rest on his chest. When he hesitantly licked into her mouth the hand on his chest became a fist in the fabric of his shirt. She opened her lips and met his tongue with her own, trying to ease away all the traces of uncertainty. 

When he pulled away he looked at her with disbelief written all over his face. Like he genuinely thought this was a dream. She gave a giddy laugh at his wide eyed expression, swollen lipstick-smeared lips parted in awe at their situation. 

Her laughter seemed to pull him out of his daze and he grinned at her. He gently pushed her until she was laying on her back on the bed again. Except this time, he was laying on her front. He just looked at her with so much joy and love and _tenderness._

She reached to grasp the back of his neck and leaned forward, connecting their lips once more, kissing that look of adoration off his face and onto hers. She did adore him. She had for thousands of years. She thought he knew! But apparently he was truly _that_ thick. No matter, he knew now and that was _more_ than enough. _That_ was bloody _brilliant._

The angelic gardener was on cloud nine. He could _not_ believe this was his reality. That she did love him back. He had spent years thinking their relationship would always stay a friendly one, but not anymore. No, there was no going back from this. And he was perfectly happy with that fact. He was elated. Giddy. Delighted! Thrilled! Over the moon! Absolutely tickety-

The nanny gasped and they broke apart. “Warlock! I- I have to go!” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said breathlessly, moving off of her so she could get up. 

She went to the mirror and groaned. “My lipstick’s smudged, my hair is a mess I- I-” 

The man sitting on the bed furrowed his brow. _Did she forget…? No matter._ He snapped his fingers and she looked perfectly put together once more. 

“I- oh,” she said quietly, realizing she probably could have done that herself. She turned around to smile at him in thanks but instead burst into laughter. 

“What?” he asked indignantly. 

She placed a hand on his back and guided him to the mirror. The area around his mouth was covered with lipstick. It looked rather like he had a purple goatee. He snorted. 

“Let me get that for you,” she snapped her fingers and he expected it to be gone. Instead he saw she had conjured up a makeup wipe which she began to gently apply to his face. He breathed out an awkward laugh. She only smiled sweetly at him. 

“Dearest?” he asked while she continued to work on restoring his face to its usual colour. 

“Hm?” she bit her lip in concentration. 

“Did you tell Warlock… he’s not allowed to hurt me?” he inquired, thinking back to his and Warlock’s conversation earlier. 

“I- er-” she turned red and focused even more intently on the area around his mouth. “I mean- I- yes,” she blurted. She was quiet for a moment after that, but then continued, seeming to have gathered her thoughts enough to form a sentence. “If he _does_ bring about the war we can’t have the most important angel dying, now can we?” she tried to say it jokingly, but there was still a lot of weight and meaning behind the words. 

“I- yes, well, right,” he said, dumbly. “And what about you? What about the most important demon?” he asked, honestly wondering. He knew he couldn’t go on if she died in battle. 

“I don’t know,” she glanced to his eyes before returning to his mouth while she finished wiping at it. “There, all cleaned up,” she smiled at him in that sweet way she does once every 500 years. 

“Crowley…” the man started. But he found he didn’t have the words. He just stood up and pulled her into a hug. She made a small _oof_ sound before wrapping her spindly arms around his ample form and breathing in his scent. He smelled slightly different than she was used to, since he’d been in the garden all day. A bit more earthy and a tad less sweet. 

When he stepped back from the hug he smiled at her before clasping her hand in his. “Let’s go find Warlock then,” when she just stared at him with an unreadable expression and a rather pink face he pulled on her hand slightly. “Shall we?” she hummed and off they went.

~×~

When they found Warlock he was (thankfully no longer playing in the bird bath) making a flower crown of dandelions (a skill his nanny taught him). 

When he spotted the hand holding pair he waved excitedly. “Nanny!!” he picked up a larger ring of dandelions than the one in his hand and ran over to her.

“Hello, darling!” she released the gardener’s hand to scoop up the small boy so they could speak eye to eye. “What’s that you got there?” she asked, nodding to the bundles of flowers. 

“Flower crowns! Here I made this one for you! I hope it makes you feel all better so we can play fairies,” he said. She leaned her head down so he could adorn her with the crown. 

She gasped. “I think it worked! I do feel better!” she placed the boy down who began to jump around squealing excitedly. 

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go let’s go!” he grabbed her hand and whisked her away toward an area that’s enclosed by a circle of bushes. She turned to smile toothily at the gardener before being dragged off to play by the little boy. 

He felt the love radiating off of Warlock in waves, and he knew that the nanny loved the little boy back just as fiercely. They were such an adorable and inseparable pair. Just because he was the antichrist destined to destroy the world did not change the fact that he would never even consider harming his nanny in the process. She was definitely safe. And for the time being, they all were!

It was almost too easy to forget about the end of the world when the sun shone so beautifully and a warm breeze ruffled the flower crown perched atop a child’s head while he played fairies with a kind and loving woman who crouched behind a bush and whispered to the leaves about her undying love for a gardener who she recently found felt the same way towards her. It was a simple enough trick of the mind to believe that the whole world resided in this garden, and for the nanny, it kind of did. Right now, her world consisted of gorgeous plants, a precious little boy, and a silly gardener. And it probably always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAH that was the last part!! I hope you liked the ending! If you leave a comment or kudos, I will love you forever XD Thank you all SO MUCH for reading <3


End file.
